Spirit Walker
by Kavazya
Summary: It's no secret that Jacob Ely is no fan of the Phantom's. But is there more to the story than that? Maybe, just maybe, he knows that horse better than even his best friend Sam can dream. A Phantom Stallion retelling.
1. Prologue

**Naturally, this story idea came to me when I was supposed to be writing something else. Cie la vie. I do not own the Phantom Stallion series.**

A Peculiar Occurrence (Prologue)

When Maxine had heard on the news that the upcoming weekend promised to be the hottest of the year, she took it upon herself to declare it a non-optional Ely family camping trip to the lake. Although her husband Luke had grumbled something about neglecting ranch duties, all six of the Ely boys had failed to stop talking about it the entire week. Then when Maxine had mentioned the idea to her close friend and neighbor, Louise Forster, not even Luke could turn down the Forster's offer of assistance for a few days as the sun began to swelter.

So that's how they found themselves - Luke, Maxine, the boys, and Luke's father MacArthur - eating lunch together on a compiled bed of blankets, towels and mats above the lake shore. Jake, the youngest, had inhaled his food before the others and was scavenging through the truck bed for the box that contained the water toys. A grin spreading over his face, he pulled a water gun from amidst the heap and raised it into the air.

"Mom, Dad!" the six-year-old shouted down at them. "Can I go swimming now?"

"Jake, I just told you five minutes ago that you have to wait half an hour before swimming," Maxine stated firmly. "When we've all finished lunch and digested our food then we'll go swimming together."

Mac, as his grandfather was often called, read the clear disappointment on the boy's face with a soft smile. "Jacob, do you know where this lake gets its life?"

The boy shook his head, raven-colored bangs sweeping over his dark eyes.

"There is a creek that feeds this lake," Mac continued, "and if you find it, I think you also may find a few frogs."

Without a moment's hesitation the water gun was being traded for a green net and the boy was racing to the shore in search of the creek. It wasn't far at all when he found it, but concealed where the shore dipped around the corner into a small bay. Jake followed the gurgling noise until the creek was clear and cold from the shading of the trees.

_Plop!_

His grandfather had been right. A frog slipped from atop a rock and disappeared into the water. Head down and feet treading lightly so as not to scare them off, Jake slowly crept up the creek.

Suddenly leaves crackled between the trees ahead. Jake's head snapped up.

Right before him was a deer, a large and lean doe, lowering her head to the gentle flow of water to drink. Jake's breath caught in his throat. She was so _beautiful_. And she hadn't even noticed him. More than anything in the world he wanted to be closer to her, to see if he could feel the force of the life behind those soft eyes.

A rock shifted under his foot, and the deer's head snapped up. Now those eyes were locked to his, fearful uncertainty plain in their expression and the frantic twitch of her ears.

_No, no, no_, Jake thought more to her than to himself. _Don't be afraid. Please don't be afraid_.

His eyes pleaded for her to stay. He felt himself willing her to stand still, and it seemed to be working. She simply stood staring back at him as he felt himself grow weaker and weaker, the world around him fading away.

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Jake's body collapsed upon the creek's bank.

* * *

"Adam and Kit, don't be too rough with your brothers!" Maxine shouted after her sons who were now charging in stampede-like fashion down to the water.

"Figures that as soon as Jake goes chasing after frogs, everyone else goes swimming," Luke chuckled. "I've been having a heck of a time keeping him dry since the moment we got here."

"Should we go look for him?"

"No need just yet," Mac chimed in. "He'll either come back with a frog or give up soon."

The three adults fell quiet, enjoying the distance of the loud and exuberant children and the shade of the trees. Suddenly Maxine pointed between the trees.

"Luke!" she whispered. "There's a deer!"

They watched as the animal strode towards them, seemingly unconcerned by their presence. It gave them a quick glance before it strode straight past them to raise its head to the back of the family truck, almost as if it were searching for something.

"This isn't normal behavior," Luke said. He looked to his father. "Do you think it's sick?"

Mac didn't reply. Instead his eyes followed the deer as it turned its attention to the ruckus of the brothers swimming in the lake. Without any sign of warning it tore towards the shore, causing Maxine to scream to her sons. It reached the sand and launched itself into the water, landing so deep that it struggled to keep its head afloat. The Ely boys, after recovering from their initial shock, were clearly thrilled by witnessing such a peculiar occurrence. They splashed the deer's flanks as it frolicked back and forth in the shallow water before them.

"Mom, get the video camera!" Nate yelled as Maxine darted towards the car.

Mac turned to Luke. "You're right, I think it may be sick. See if you can chase it back towards the creek."

As Luke descended to the beach Mac wandered in the direction the deer had come. When he reached the creek, he wandered upward until he saw Jake's body lying in the bank beside the water. He stopped, frozen. Utter disbelief was written over his face. The breath he hadn't known he was holding flooded out shakily.

Then, faster than he remembered moving in years, the older man tore back down the creek and silently thanked his son when he saw the deer rounding the corner into the bay at a brisk trot. Throwing his arms out wide, he threw himself in front of the animal which came to a clumsy stop.

Mac stared into those soft, brown eyes. His brow brow furrowed and his jaw became tight.

"It's time to come back, Jacob."


	2. Chapter 2

2

Six years had passed since the camping trip up to the lake. A lot had changed since then. Jake had gotten taller and leaner and his dark hair longer, Kit had moved out, and his friend Samantha Forester's mother Louise had died in a car accident. Really, as far as Jake's timeline was concerned, everything that happened happened after that trip. When Jake had awoken on the shore of the creek that day, his grandfather staring down at him, he had been terrified. When he tried to ask Mac what had happened, the older man silenced him and told him not to speak about it. To anyone. So Jake never did.

The rest of the trip had proceeded normally, but Luke and Maxine didn't fail to notice that their youngest son, though still Jake, was a different Jake. Where before he had been as loud and demanding as any average six year old, he became unusually quiet, choosing to communicate in as few words as necessary. They quickly realized he was the most observant of their children as well, picking up tracking as naturally as a bloodhound. While they didn't mind the person that he was, his parents couldn't deny that he had been inexplicably changed.

Jake, however, could never remove what had happened from his mind. He wanted answers, but he knew only one person could possibly give them. Who else, aside from his grandfather, would even believe him? And Mac never seemed to be alone when Jake saw him, which Jake was beginning to suspect was intentional. He had too much respect for his grandfather to breach the subject in front of other people, as Mac had asked six years ago.

But one day, Maxine came into Jake's room with the home phone in her hand and said, "Your grandfather would like you to visit him tomorrow. Is that alright with you?"

Jake could only nod his consent.

When Luke dropped Jake off at Mac's the next day, his grandfather was waiting for him in the large rocker on his porch. The now twelve-year-old boy approached, his expressionless face masking the acceleration of his beating heart. He heard the dulling sound of his father's car driving away.

"Hello, Jacob."

"Hey." Jake didn't know what else to say. He wasn't good in these situations.

"I found a dog yesterday, wandering in the parking lot behind the gas station." It was then that Jake noticed a collie mix - practically nothing but skin and bone - tied to the post of the porch on the side of the house. "Life has not shown her much kindness. Why don't you see if you can make friends while I put on a pot of tea."

When the door closed behind his grandfather, Jake faced the dog. Just looking at her made her hackles raise and her lip quiver. Was Mac insane? Right now this dog was ready to tear his face off. He stepped toward her. At first she scooted against the house, emitting a low growl, but as soon as Jake was only a few feet away she lunged forth with a guttural snarl. The end of her leash was the only thing between her and Jake.

"It's alright, girl," he drawled. Kneeling down, he stared into her eyes. "You're gonna be just fine. I'm not gonna hurt you."

He wasn't sure why he was talking to that dog. He hardly said so many words at once to another person. But Jake realized that he wanted her to _understand_. He wanted her to know he meant his word.

The collie's snarl grew quiet, though her teeth were still bared. Jake started to feel his body growing weaker, but stranger still, he was beginning to feel overwhelming fear. He had to protect himself, he had to…

_No_, he thought as he felt his strength return. It's all alright. He let himself slip away into the fear, the defensiveness once more. _It's alright. Everything is alright._

The fear began to lift, and Jake opened his eyes to see the dog standing before him. She was panting heavily and her eyes were diverted, but she seemed calm.

"Very impressive, Jacob." Mac was standing at the top of the porch. "I thought perhaps too much time had passed, but I suppose you are much more rehearsed than I wanted to believe."

"I don't know what I did, I…" Jake looked at his grandfather pleadingly. "What's wrong with me? What happened that time at the lake?"

Mac gave a low chuckle. "How interesting you perceive your ability as a flaw."

Jake stared at him, his normally expressionless face filled with desperation.

Mac sighed. "There was a time, long ago, that more people possessed the ability to wander into different lives. They were people who came from various tribes, not just Shoshone, who could leave their bodies to share in another. These people were said to _mukua mia_. Spirit Walkers. That is what you are, Jacob: a Spirit Walker."

Jake shot his grandfather a disbelieving look. "You know I respect our heritage. Maybe even more than any of my brothers. But what you're telling me sounds crazy."

"Ah, but you know it isn't. You remember the feeling of prancing on those long, lean legs on the lake shore, do you not? And just now, when you were with that dog, I believe you felt things that were not yours to feel. Fear? Aggression? My hand narrowly escaped her jaws several times, and now she looks at me as if she knows me. I understand this may be hard to believe, but I think you already know the truth."

Jake turned away, eyes locking on the hills across the _playa_. His hand rose to rub the back of his neck under his black Stetson. He knew Mac had been keeping something from him. And it was true, he could remember the feeling of loping over the shore in long, light strides. But that was so long ago now he wasn't even sure that was a real memory. It just seemed like a dream. He looked at the collie, who was now laying with her delicate head resting on her paws.

"Does it work like that? She just knows what I know?" Jake asked.

Mac shook his head. "All I know is from stories. They say that the body you walk into can absorb your emotions towards something, though I don't know if the collie really understands them. She may just have felt your trust in me and adopted it as her own." He walked toward her and stroked a hand gently over her back. "But this gift is not something to play with, Jacob. There are consequences."

Finally, Jake turned to face his grandfather.

"I have always encouraged your father and your brothers to pay homage to our Shoshone ancestry, and I ask no less of you. But I must ask that you find another skill to hone, and leave this one be. Will you promise me that, Jacob?"

"Why?" Jake asked.

"Promise me."

"Fine. I promise."

"Good, Mac sighed. "Because if you wander into a body for too long or that is too strong, you will be trapped within it."

"For how long?"

"Forever."


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright, chapter 3 is officially up! I'm going to be travelling to a place where internet access is a questionable commodity for the next few days, so we'll just have to wait and see if I can post an update... Otherwise, 'til I return! **

3

Jake couldn't wait until his yearling, Witch, was old enough to learn to accept a rider. He was tired of having to ask Nate if he could borrow his gelding, Digger. Although a mild-mannered horse, Digger was the type you had to spur into any sort of motion, even a relaxed walk. Jake knew his horse was certainly not one to do things half-heartedly. Things were going quite well with Witch, and he couldn't deny the fact that he seemed to be the only person that horse actually liked. There was a joy that he felt like no other when he whispered her secret name and she'd come so close that the warm breath from her nostrils would blow his long, dark hair from his face. She brought out the softness in him that had disappeared for quite a while, the vulnerability that he hated to show. He could only imagine what it would feel like to be out with her someday on the _playa_.

But today he had to settle for shoveling out the pasture, Nate's chore, so that he could borrow his sluggish horse to visit his friend Samantha Forester at Riverbend ranch. Since Riverbend neighbored Three Ponies and Sam's mother had been a close friend of his own, he found himself being hounded by the ten-year-old girl quite often - to the extensive teasing of his brothers. Her own foal was expected to be born today, and he was incredibly grateful the wait was about to be over because he hadn't caught a break from hearing her talk about it for months. That little pest had made him promise to teach her some of the Native American training techniques that his father and grandfather had taught him. He had already told her the most important one: the secret name. You had to whisper the name three times to the foal as soon as possible, and be especially careful that no one else could hear you. He had worried that with her big mouth that could be a problem, but Sam had listened to his instructions intently, nodding her understanding of his every word. If only she would listen like that more often...

When Jake crossed the bridge to Riverbend on Digger he could have sworn that Sam had developed a Jake Ely radar, because in that instant she came running from the barn, her auburn hair flying out behind her.

"Jake! Jake!" she shouted. "You missed it! My foal was born!"

"Quiet down, Brat," Jake said. "You'll spook Digger." As if. Jake almost wished she had spooked Digger; it would've been the most energy he'd ever seen the horse voluntarily exert.

"Oh, sorry." Sam smiled sheepishly. "C'mon, get down! I want to show him to you."

Jake rolled his eyes, then swung down from Nate's horse and tied him to the post outside the barn. Sam danced ahead of him, waving him along with her hands until she stopped in front of an enclosed stall. Jake peered over the door. Sure enough, a foal was resting between the hooves of Princess Kitty, a sorrel Quarter Horse mare. Despite the tinge of gray to the soft baby fuzz, Jake could see that the foal was completely black.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Sam sighed from beside him. "I named him Blackie."

Jake snorted. A black horse named Blackie. That was Sam, for you.

"What?" Sam sounded hurt. Girls were so sensitive.

"Nothin'."

She brushed it off quickly. Turning to Jake, she said, "He and Witch will match when we go riding together. It's a good thing black is your favorite color, huh?"

He said nothing. He couldn't fathom why anyone would care about horses matching, or why it would be bad if black wasn't his favorite color. Sam, however, interpreted his silence slightly differently.

"Oh," she said, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "Don't worry, I remembered what you told me. As soon as my dad left the barn, I snuck into the stall and whispered his secret name to him. Three times. Just like you said."

"Good." Jake didn't bother to mention that he certainly never instructed her to sneak into the stall of a new mother and her foal unsupervised.

Suddenly Sam's father Wyatt Forester walked into the barn. Jake liked Wyatt. Sam's father was a true cowboy; a kind man who hid his soft side with tough exterior. He was good with horses, and understood how words sometimes just got in the way of things.

"Hey there, Jake," Wyatt said.

Jake tipped his Stetson toward him.

"Can I expect you to be around this summer to help Sam with that colt of hers? Maybe some of your good sense will rub off on her."

"Yes sir," Jake grinned as Sam stuck her tongue out at him.

Wyatt shot her a stern look, causing Sam to mumble an apology. Jake couldn't help but observe that the glimmer in her eyes didn't look the least bit sorry. Wyatt seemed to notice this too, as he shook his head with a sigh and excused himself to go check on one of the cows that had fallen ill.

"So what do we do next?" Sam asked eagerly.

Jake couldn't stop the tomcat grin from spreading over his face from under his black Stetson. "Jeeze, Brat. That horse was just born today!"

But when her enthusiasm failed to leave her face, Jake relented. He gave her little things to work on, like keep saying his secret name and getting him used to being handled all over. Although he would never admit it, he liked this feeling of teaching her what to do. It made him feel important. And he wanted to do this the right way, too. He wanted to be successful with horses because he had a way with them, not because he could manipulate them. There were days when he had been so tempted to make Witch cooperate by spirit walking into her, but he had come to appreciate his horse for living up to her namesake. Now with Sam's horse Blackie, he wanted to earn Sam's respect the old-fashioned way.

All of the sudden, he found himself eagerly awaiting the day when he and Sam could be out on the desert, matching black horses thundering over the open _playa_.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm home again, which means you guys get a new chapter! I tried uploading while I was out of town, but my laptop and the internet were apparently not on speaking terms...**

4

He had tried so hard. He really had. Things with Sam's colt Blackie had started off well. Very well actually. Blackie was halter trained and following Sam around like a puppy in what seemed like no time at all. It was the day that Jake had decided it was time to teach the black colt to load into a trailer that he started to slip. And the boy, now fourteen-years-old, had discovered that it was a very slippery slope indeed. As it turned out, if you break a promise to your grandfather once, the second, third, fourteenth time stopped seeming to matter so much.

The problem had been the trailer gate and, looking back, Jake should have known it was likely to cause some problems. The Foresters had two horse trailers; their main one had been being used by Wyatt to deliver some horses to their buyers, and they kept another beat-up trailer parked behind the tool shed. Although the older one was now primarily used to transport the occasional cow, he and Sam figured they could make do with it in the others absence. Blackie didn't seem to mind it, until the time finally came to teach him to walk up the lowered gate into the trailer.

Jake could see in the colt's eyes that although he did trust Sam, he didn't trust her implicitly. When she finally persuaded him to step onto the ramp, it was just their luck that one of the rusted-out gate bolts would break under the horse's weight, sending him into a wild panic. Blackie had lurched forth only to realize the trailer offered no out. His only escape was to bolt back the way he came - which was now where Sam stood.

That was when Jake's control slipped. Seeing what was about to happen, both his body and mind raced out to the black colt. His mind screamed for the horse to quiet, to not trample his friend. The strength in his body left him as soon as he reached the broken side of the trailer gate, leaving his body to crumple into a heap. But Jake hadn't felt it.

Suddenly all he could feel was the pulse of his massive heart coursing through his wide chest and each of his four legs; all he could hear was the rush of wind being exalted from his flared nostrils. And Sam's voice. She was calling to him, telling him that he was a good boy and that everything was alright. And suddenly he remembered that yes, everything was alright. There was nothing evil or scary about this horse-box on wheels, and decided to make a point of it by walking calmly into the trailer stall as the weight of the trailer shifted under his hooves. His breathing slowed even more as Sam praised him.

"Jake?" she suddenly sounded alarmed. "Oh no… Jake! Are you okay?"

That had not been good. Jake suddenly focused on himself, searching for his own body until he felt himself slipping from the colt and the world came back to his own eyes. Sam had been freaked, but he made up something about Blackie bumping him into the trailer wall and hitting his head. Sam had been too preoccupied with her horse's panic to know otherwise.

After that it became easier and easier to alter the way things were going with Blackie. If he spooked or was being infuriatingly stubborn, Jake would spirit walk into the colt. Was he proud of it? Heck no. But when Sam cooed her praise at him as Blackie and would beam back at him afterwards as Jake, he was beginning to find the process highly addictive. Whenever Sam would boast about how great her horse was, he'd hide his tomcat grin under the shadow of his Stetson.

And it was ridiculously easy to hide his gift from Sam. If he wore his hat low enough or propped himself up against a fence or chair, he could spirit walk into the colt so quickly that Sam never even noticed. She was always too busy spoiling that horse with treats or pats and pretty words.

He knew it would have to stop.

But today, he couldn't take the excitement away from Sam. Blackie was now two years old, and today they were teaching him to accept a bridle. The bit had been a huge problem - Jake had to spirit walk into that horse three times for him to finally be alright with the concept. But that had been the last piece of tack to accustom him to, and Sam was ecstatic.

"Oh, Jake," she breathed. "Just look at him in his tack. He's all grown up!"

Jake had to admit she was right. And he knew that even though he'd taken the shortcuts, Blackie was a halfway decent horse. So maybe Sam didn't know her horse wasn't as compliant and accepting from the get-go as she liked to think. It was a great source of pride for her. Where was the harm in that?

"When do you think we can start mounting him?" she asked.

"Few more weeks."

She looked disappointed again. There she went, expecting the world and making him feel like a jerk for not giving it to her. She was such a brat sometimes.

"Maybe next week we can start getting him used to a bit of body weight," he relented.

Sam's face lit up. "Really?"

"We'll see."

That answer was enough for Sam. She had enough faith in that colt of hers to expect nothing less than being able to sit on his back by the end of next week, he was sure.

But as Jake would find out, it wouldn't be teaching Blackie to accept a rider that would be the risky part, but rather what comes afterwards.

**You guys can probably guess what's in store for the next chapter... I'm thinking this story will follow the original in the beginning and veer further and further from it with each addition. **


	5. Chapter 5

6

Although neither Sam nor Jake spoke of it, this was the day they were to receive a taste of what they had dreamed of since Sam's foal had been born. Months had passed since Sam had first clambered up on Blackie's back in the middle of the La Charla river, and she had been riding him around the arena and the pasture round and round again for weeks. It wasn't long before he was encouraging Sam to leave the saddle behind and try riding him bareback. Jake had to admit, the colt really had adjusted to being ridden exceptionally well - and Jake hadn't intervened once. It was just yesterday that they began to talk about moving it up to the next level.

"I know where every gopher hole in the entire pasture is by heart," Sam had complained to him. "I think Blackie is tired of it, too. I just wish there was someplace else we could try riding. Do you think we could walk him over to Three Ponies sometime? At least your corral and turnout would be new for him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Brat."

Sam had opened her mouth as if about to argue in favor of walking a horse three miles just to ride him in a different enclosure was a good idea. Jake decided to cut her off.

"Ain't no point in walking a horse an hour both ways just to ride him somewhere else," Jake had said. "At least not when you can ride him wherever you want."

Sam's face lit up. "Do you think we're ready for that?"

Jake nodded. "Where do you want to go?"

"Maybe the river! Or we could ride out…"  
"Let's ride out towards War Drum Flats and just turn around when we're ready. The range is really flat and open that way."

And so it was settled. Sam hadn't been able to stop talking about it for the rest of the day, but when she had woken up this morning her excitement began to develop into anxiety. From her bedroom she could hear the whistle of the wind as it coursed through Riverbend. She wasn't sure how Blackie would react.

When Jake came over that afternoon on his big, black mare Witch, he found Sam waiting for him outside the barn with Blackie's bridle in her hand.

"Jake, I don't know," she said. "Should we wait until a day when there's no wind?"

Jake just raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well maybe I should use a saddle today, just in case," Sam suggested.

Jake rolled his eyes. Since when did a little breeze scare Samantha Forester? And Jake knew Blackie, he knew that horse wasn't much of the skittish type. Sure, he could get spooked when things like the trailer gate bolt breaking happened, but what was Jake's ability for if he couldn't fix the situation? Not that he could tell Sam that, though…

"Stop being such a baby," Jake said. She was ready for this. He had seen them working wonderfully together for weeks now. "The only thing that's going to freak your horse out is you."

Sam quieted and turned to the pasture where Blackie was. The black colt came trotting up to her eagerly, clearly anticipating some sort of treat Sam was known to spoil him with. She quickly slipped the bridle over his head, slid the bit into his mouth and swung herself clumsily onto his back. Jake had to admit that was kind of impressive - Blackie was no short horse, especially to a twelve-year-old girl. In no time the two black horses were carrying their riders towards the range.

There were two cattle gates they had to move through before they were really free to roam. Jake demonstrated the technique on Witch, nudging his mare sideways towards the gate until he could reach it with his arm and swing it open. He closed it again and made Sam try it next. Blackie shuffled sideways while Sam's arm latched onto the gate, and again while she held it to open and close behind them. When they reached the next gate, Jake let her attempt it alone.

Suddenly the breeze picked up a little more. The clang of the gate against the latch was starting to make Blackie fidget.

"Jake, are you sure about this?" the concern had crept into her voice. "I think he's nervous."

"Sure it ain't just you?"

That did it. Sam wiped the hesitation from her face and guided her colt towards the gate with her legs. Reaching down, she lifted the latch and started to pull the gate open. Just then, a gust of wind came tearing over them, ripping the gate from Sam's grasp.

Jake couldn't remember a time when things had fallen apart so quickly, and at the same time slow enough to observe the horror of every detail.

The metal pendulum hit the young horse's flank with surprising velocity. Terror filled his wide, brown eyes as he swung around and began to bolt. Being bareback, Sam had nothing to support her but the strength of her own legs, which were unprepared for the rapid motion. Jake could see her body tipping at an awkward angle as she began to slide further and further towards the ground until she had fallen upon it entirely.

The soft thud of Blackie's hind hoof as it grazed Sam's head made Jake want to vomit.

"Sa-," his voice cut out. He swallowed and tried again. "Sam!"

She didn't move.

Trying to suppress the pure terror that threatened to freeze his entire body, Jake took the reins firmly in his grasp. Giving his mare the most firm kick to her sides he had ever given, he clung to a section of Witch's black mane and tore towards Riverbend like a freight train in search of help.

**I think now you guys now why I thought you'd guess what was coming up for this chapter. This event was important to my version of the story as well as the original, but in a few more chapters it will start taking its own direction. Depending on how many people see this chapter, I might have the next one up in a day or two since they are both a little shorter.**


	6. Chapter 6

**My apologies that this chapter was a bit of a wait. Even though I still get a student's luxury of a summer off, I've managed to become much busier than I really intended to be. I suppose that's the consequence of having an overactive ambition for a few days... Anyway, I will try to keep on top of this as much as possible!**

"Can I at least see her?" Jake knew his words were coming out barely above a whisper.

Maxine looked at her son. It broke her heart to see him like this. He was always trying so hard to be brave, and now it seemed as if he might crumble before her very eyes. She felt a tear slide down her cheek.

"Please, Mom," he said. "I have to see her."

The petite blonde woman inhaled. How was she supposed to tell him?

"Jake," Maxine said slowly. "Sam got hit in the head pretty hard. She was in a coma."

Jake paled. "Is she going to be okay?"

Again, she was at a loss for words. No one ever knew what would happen with head injuries like this, at least not so soon. Samantha was such a sweet girl, the daughter she had never had. Maxine hoped more than anything in the world that she would be just fine. But she also knew she couldn't give Jake false hope.

So instead she said, "She's got a long recovery ahead of her. That's why Wyatt has decided that it would be better for her if… if she went to live in San Francisco."

_San Francisco_. California. Jake had never been to California. It seemed like an entire world away. Maybe this was all a nightmare, and he'd wake up and see Sam riding Blackie around the Riverbend corral complaining about her lack of mental stimulation.

"She has an aunt who lives in the city," his mom continued. "Cities have lots of hospitals and access to things we don't get here. If she were here and something happened…"

Anger flashed through Jake's mind. He didn't want to hear his mother justifying Wyatt's decision. How in this world was he supposed to atone for his mistakes if Sam was gone? Gone, just like that.

"For how long?" he said evenly.

"I'm so sorry I - I don't know."

That meant a long time. The way she said it, he could tell that she had spoken to Wyatt. And it sounded like he had every intention of Sam staying there for as long as need be. That left just one more question.

"When?"

"Oh, Jake… She's already gone."

* * *

Jake had waited until he got home to cry. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had felt the streaming of tears down his face, and now he couldn't find the strength within him to stop. This was his fault. His fault from pushing Sam beyond her limits to Blackie's extreme reaction to the gate. And he - maybe the one person on this Earth capable of stopping what was happening - had sat frozen on his horse like some petrified idiot.

Sam had known it wasn't right. She had sensed the risk carried on the wind and the uncertainty of her mount. And he had ignored her, even egging her on just to shut her up! He couldn't think of anything more despicable.

_You thought you were better than that_, he berated himself. _You were so sure that if anything went wrong, you would be able to just spirit walk into that horse and magically fix everything. So stupid!_

He had broken his word to his grandfather and he had paid for it dearly. If only he had taken the time with that horse to do things the right way like he had done with his own horse. So what if Sam didn't have as much to brag about? Anything was better than a coma! And that horse! Why couldn't he have just trusted Sam enough to remain calm? Jake knew the answer to that. It was because it wasn't real. The trust in Sam, the good behavior in questionable situations, none of it. It had just been Jake, eager to please his friend for his own satisfaction. That good-for-nothing horse had thrown it all back in his face.

Tears poured anew. His throat was dry and his eyes felt puffy and swollen. He choked on his broken sobs into his pillow until it felt like his eyes were swelling shut. A while later - he had no idea how long - his breathing slowed and his mind refused to think. Just before he surrendered his consciousness to sleep, his mind honed in on one single thought.

Somehow, he would find a way to make it up to Samantha Forester.


	7. Chapter 7

7

The day that Wyatt had told Jake that his daughter was coming home had been one of the most emotionally conflicting of Jake's existence. How long had he been wishing to see her again, dreaming of the day he could see for his own eyes that Samantha Forester hadn't actually disappeared off the face of the earth? And yet at the same time a part of him had always known that day would inevitably arrive, and dreaded it.

What if Sam hated him? He couldn't blame her; he hated himself plenty for what had happened. But somehow the thought of losing her friendship forever was even more awful than what he had let happen to her. It made his stomach turn.

There was one thing, however, that Jake Ely knew with absolute certainty: no matter how Samantha Forester felt about him, he was going to make sure that nothing like that ever, _ever_, happened to her again.

A few months after a Sam's accident, Wyatt had asked Jake to come work training horses for him. He thought Jake had a natural talent with them. Jake wasn't sure if he was good with horses or if he had just been fortunate enough to experience how they thought and felt. Either way, Jake had sworn off spirit walking. At the very least, he could take pride in the fact that whatever he accomplished with the horses at Riverbend Ranch was the product of his own sweat and blood. That was how he found himself on the back of a particularly fiery paint mare the day Sam returned.

This was a horse he and Wyatt had purchased at an auction to train and sell, and so far she was making Jake work for the profit. He dug the heels of his boots firmly into her flanks as she tested his balance with another buck. Suddenly she launched forth, careening around the corral at breakneck speed while throwing her hips out in wild kicks. Jake whooped loudly, unconcerned with her bad manners.

He heard the ranch dog, Blaze, barking in the distance.

Taking the reins firmly in his hand he pulled back, all the while using his legs to try to drive the mare into the bit. The paint threw her head upwards, refusing Jake's attempt to gain control.

"Come on, now!" he hollered at her as she tossed him back and forth in the saddle.

Planting her legs stiffly before her, the mare skidded to a halt. Before she had even come to a full stop she lowered her head and kicked out her hind legs as high as she possibly could. It was just enough to launch Jake from the seat of the saddle and sailing clear over her head through the air. He thanked his stars that the mare had launched him with just enough spin to send him sliding by the seat of his jeans instead of his head. A cloud of dust swirled around him.

It was only when the dust began to settle that Jake took notice of Wyatt's truck. The older man was already outside the vehicle with an ever-so-slight smirk on his face as he took in Jake's situation. Suddenly he heard the passenger side door close to reveal a girl with short, auburn hair. His breath caught. Since he was sixteen that would have made her around fourteen years old now, and aside from short hair and longer limbs, he was relieved that she was pretty much the same old Sam. Albeit a slightly more grown up one. He didn't fail to notice that her head looked fine, though judging by her short, choppy locks no one knew how to cut hair in San Francisco. He swallowed.

He watched as she took him in, trying to suppress the squirmy feeling in his stomach. An unimaginable warmth spread through him when Sam's face broke into a smile. "Oh Jake, what's wrong?"

That annoyingly sing-song voice of her called to his long-lost childhood.

He heard Wyatt say, "I'd say you missed a good chance to keep your mouth shut, Sam."

Rising to his feet, Jake dusted himself off. "Well if it ain't Samantha," he grinned. "Still skinnier than a wet weasel, aren't you Sam?"

He wasn't sure where the ability to teasingly converse with her so easily had come from, especially after two years of wondering whether or not she would ever speak to him again. He supposed it had never really left him. It had just been lying dormant within him, waiting to be re-awakened by the one girl who was peskier than a horse fly. That was simply the nature of their friendship. Yet a part of him wondered if it was only because it was easier. Because he didn't know if he had the strength to tell her how sorry he was for what had happened two years ago.

Grace Forester opened the front door of the ranch house and began making her way down the porch steps. He watched as his friend reunited with her grandmother. All this time he had felt only the strain of her absence on himself. He never really thought about how hard it must have been for her to be separated from her closest family like that. He knew with absolute certainty that as long as he had anything to do with it, he would never allow her to experience anything like that ever again.

After recovering from the shock of Wyatt giving Sam Ace, the smart-as-all-hell reformed mustang (he still wasn't sure why the girl who was only now returning from her brain injury recovery wasn't receiving a bomb-proof horse),the four of them made their way into the kitchen where Grace served them some of her homemade pie. It made him smile to see that Sam was genuinely happy to be home. Yet when they broke the news of the upcoming cattle drive to her, Jake didn't miss the flash of uncertainty on her face.

But naturally as soon as he even hinted at her lack of recent experience slowing her down, that sharp tongue of hers lashed out defensively. He knew better, but Sam had a way of stomping down fear beyond recognition. Some things just never change, he supposed.

_Well_, he thought. _What better way to get used to riding again than spending ten hours a day on a horse?_


	8. Chapter 8

From the instant the wild mustangs made an appearance on the drive, Jake should have sensed trouble. The idea that Blackie, Sam's precious runaway colt, could be roaming the desert was as clear as day in the way her eyes drifted to the Calico Mountains. He knew Wyatt was only feeding into the fantasy by telling her about the local legend of the Phantom Stallion, and how the horses from Blackie's lineage had turned white after a few years of age. Even if that horse was alive, Sam had refused to let Blackie be gelded. That meant he would be about 800 pounds of raging stallion. Definitely not something you'd want any fourteen-year-old girl chasing after.

And if that wasn't enough, there was their new neighbor Linc Slocum to consider. To Jake, Linc was an overgrown child desperate to play cowboy and who had enough money to keep trying. Deep down, Jake was pretty sure that even Linc knew that the other cowboys thought much the same of him. That had to be why he was hounding the Phantom like a coon dog that just can't seem to sniff out the right trail. Even though money couldn't buy the legendary horse, it sure as heck could provide a means (even an unorthodox one). By no good reasoning would it be a good idea to get in the way of that. Grace Forester said that catching that horse was to him the ultimate validation of his right to be on the range. It probably wouldn't hurt to have a stud that could sire a line of the fastest and toughest horses in Darton County, either.

But the fact of the matter, despite all of this sound logic, was that Sam believed with every fiber of her being that her lost colt was roaming free.

He heard it in the way she spoke about the wild mustangs. He saw it in her long glances toward the Calico Mountains when she was riding drag. He sensed it during her periods of silence.

Though none of this really bothered Jake. Until he knew for certain that she had seen that danged horse, that is.

Jake was no fool. He guessed that Blackie was the current Phantom, as his sire Smoke had turned white from black as well. That was why when that good-for-nothing Slocum had come seeking his coveted tracking skills, Jake had made excuses about being busy with school and work. Even if Jake hated that horse, for no reason other than being the symbol of his arrogance with spirit walking, he wouldn't wish capture by Slocum on any living creature. But when he had seen Sam's tracks overlapping with the Phantom's, he became infuriated. That bond she'd thought she had with that horse? Not real. Blackie had been about as attached to her as any other horse; it had been Jake spirit walking into his body that had given him the appearance of trust. That was how everything fell apart so quickly, and Sam was clinging to this idiotic belief that her horse remembered her. He had probably just smelled his old buddy, Ace.

"You don't think I know what happened? Jake had asked irritatedly.

"I think that if you bothered to look at our tracks, you know exactly what happened," Sam snapped back.

He sighed. "There's two things I need to tell you. First, if you've seen the Phantom, you know he has a scar on his neck. Slocum put it there."

Her eyes widened. He went on to explain how Linc had almost captured him by roping him from a truck with the rope attached to a cement barrel from the other end.

Sam swallowed, then said, "You said there were two things you needed to tell me. What's the other one?"

Jake looked her in the eyes and hardened. "Just this: you got hurt before because I wasn't watching you close enough. This time, I'm going to stick to you like glue, Samantha Anne. Slocum's dead serious about catching that horse. He'll do whatever it takes - including using you as bait. But I'll do whatever I have to, to keep you safe."

Jake could see her mouth beginning to open in protest. Tipping the brim of his hat towards her, he tapped his heels against Witch's flank lightly. His big, black mare surprised him by launching into an unusually energetic gallop, but he wasn't going to complain. It was better to let Sam mull over his words for a while.

* * *

The ride that day had been an especially long one. Even Jake felt a little stiff when he dismounted Witch and untacked her, but fortunately it wasn't so bad that it showed. After dinner most people had gone to bed, but he and Dallas had the first shift of night watch. Jake was exhausted when his hours of looking after the cattle in the black of night had come to an end and couldn't have been more ready to wake Ross for the next shift.

But sadly, sleep was not yet intended for Jake Ely.

On his way to his tent, he heard a distant rustling outside camp, followed by what sounded like a muffled drumming. His curiosity bested him. He had a hunch, but he wanted to see it for himself. Slipping into the blackness between the trees, he stumbled upon his answer in the dirt. Mustang hoof prints. Many of them.

He walked their tracks a ways before finding a set that diverted from the group. He inhaled, and proceeded to follow them. Sure enough, when he reached a small, grassy clearing, he found a white stallion grazing idly.

As soon as his scent hit the horse's nostrils his great head snapped up. Ears pulled back. Teeth were bared. Everything about that horse clearly said there would be consequences for standing there too long.

You don't scare me, Blackie, Jake thought. You've already done your damage, as have I.

The stallion snorted and began striking the ground anxiously with his hoof. Jake knew that he could stop this horse from hurting him. And with that realization, it was as if he had given himself permission to proceed. Jake sensed the horse begin to quiet as he felt himself grow weaker. So what if he got trapped inside this horse forever? That would be the ultimate irony: to be stuck inside the horse he had manipulated carelessly. Maybe that was how the balance would be restored, to atone for what happened to Sam.

Jake's body collapsed. Suddenly he felt unimaginably powerful. He shifted the weight between his hooves, testing the power of his muscular limbs. Then he lurched forth. The night-blackened earth became blurred under his hooves as he pushed his limbs into a break-neck gallop. He felt the lash of his mane and tail as they whipped out behind him. The breath blew from his flared nostrils in time with the striking of his hooves on the ground. This was what it meant to be wild, free. He was king of the playa!

He turned when his breathing became labored and made his way back into the foothills. His herd was nestled in a clearing a ways away from the camp. Some of his mares nickered greetings at him, but he strode past them. The swish of his long tail brushed his hocks as he walked and his long forelock was falling into his eyes. It was as he tossed his head to clear his vision that he heard a gasp.

Standing behind the brush only a few feet away from him was a girl. Her short hair framed her light, slightly-freckled face as she stared at him in wonder. Jake pricked his ears toward her, waiting to see what she would do. She took a few cautious steps towards him.

"I knew it was you," she breathed. "Hey sweet boy, do you remember me?"

A part of Jake was torn between high-tailing it out of there or running her off. Yet he couldn't bring himself to move. He knew this girl.

"It's me," she said as she moved closer. "Sam."

Sam. Suddenly Jake remembered who he was. This was bad. He couldn't let her think that Blackie remembered her. It would be too dangerous if she approached him later, when it was actually the hormone-crazed stallion calling the shots. She was extending a hand towards him now…

Rearing slightly on his hind legs, he slammed his front hooves on the earth and wheeled away from her. The last thing he remembered before he slipped back into his true self was the look of hurt in Sam's eyes as he left her.


	9. Chapter 9

8

At first, Jake had been pretty angry with Sam for sneaking out in the middle of the night to find that stupid horse. He had barely spoken to her for the entire rest of the cattle drive. Although he was in no mood to acknowledge it to her face, he had to admit she was acclimating to riding again quite nicely. Her return home was actually very well-timed, because there was nothing quite like the horseback riding crash course the long trip offered. But good timing couldn't compensate for how downright foolish that girl could be sometimes. And it was this precise thought that was spoiling his afternoon with his best friend Darrell.

"Guess who scheduled themselves a study date with the prettiest girl in fourth period?" Darrell asked.

Jake raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yessir," Darrell drawled. "Yours truly!"

Jake sipped his iced coffee absently. It was too sweet. Why did some people seem to think that just because you ordered a drink iced, it all the sudden needed to be sweeter?

"Me and Alexis Colvin are gonna be workin' on a chemistry project after school tomorrow. At _her house_. Man, as soon as she got to talkin' about some idea of going around the whole school and testin' all the water fountains or something, all I saw were those icy blue eyes and honey-colored hair…"

"Weren't chemistry partners assigned by Mr. Maxwell?" Jake asked.

Darrell grinned at him wickedly. "Well of course they were. It just so happens that my eyesight has deteriorated into somethin' awful these past few days, and until my eyeglass prescription is filled I'll just have to make do trading seat partners with Jim Towner. Jimmy ain't exactly my number one supporter at the moment, but who can blame him?"

Jake glanced at his watch. It was almost four o'clock. He and Darrell had been sitting at the coffee shop for a little over an hour now, and still he couldn't concentrate on anything. Especially not after having to see Sam every day at school when they still hadn't really talked since the drive. She was spending all her time at breaks with this blonde-haired girl with glasses. He wasn't sure how to feel about the situation, really. Obviously he didn't want her tagging around after him. But at the same time, she hadn't been to a school here in over two years, so how was she supposed to know the worthwhile people from the ones who could turn on you faster than a spinning top? Yet far be it from him to seem overly concerned with Sam Forester's affairs.

"Dude, have you heard anything I've said?" Darrel sounded irritated, but the laughter in his eyes was aggravating Jake further.

"Yeah, yeah. Alexis is cute. Chemistry thing tomorrow."

"You are somethin' else, Ely! We are waayyy past Alexis now, man. I was askin' you if you wanted to drive up to Reno this weekend for a music festival. Actually, scratch that. I was informing you that we'll be departin' this Saturday for Reno. Non-optional. I'll pick you up at 8."

Jake nodded slowly, taking another sip of his drink. "I should get going now. I need to get a run in before sundown."

Darrell shook his head dejectedly. "Yeah, whatever, Hermes. Just remember to strap on your winged shoes."

"See ya, Darrell."

"Till' tomorrow, my friend. By the way, I expect you to finally introduce me to that little red-headed Forester girl, Jake. Either you do, or I'll just have to cozy up to your long-lost tagalong myself." Darrell smiled and wheeled away before Jake could reply.

"You leave her alone, now, ya hear?" Jake shouted after him.

Great. Now he had Darrell to worry about.

Today, he wasn't running just to train for track; he was running because it was one of the few things in life that could actually clear a mind. When he got home to Three Ponies, he set off towards the La Charla River. The afternoon sun was beating down on his back, causing beads of sweat to roll down his forehead. He surged forth, legs pumping at the highest speed he could maintain for three miles. It wasn't until the sun was noticeably lowered in the sky that his lungs began screaming at him to stop that he slowed into an unbalanced walk. Hands on his hips he stared at the ground waiting for his breath to return. As he scoured the ground he noticed a faint print in the sand.

Any emotion he might have felt was undetectable. Carefully he picked his way from print to print until he found himself on the ledge of a steep bank. Wading in the shallow water below him was a white stallion, scar on his neck curved toward his lowered head as he drank.

Jake had never felt so torn. This horse was the source of the vast majority of his current concerns. Yet at the same time, it was actually Jake himself who had created his problems. If he hadn't used his gift to make that colt appear to Sam a far better horse than he actually was, maybe she wouldn't have felt such a bond with him now. It would almost be fitting then, wouldn't it, if Jake permanently became the horse Sam so wanted to believe her Blackie was?

He stared at the Phantom, who still hadn't taken notice of his presence. Jake knew it was a foolish thought. Yet as he felt his presence in his own body slowly begin to fade, the voice in his head that told him so was blatantly ignored. The transition was taking place so slowly that Jake actually felt himself fall to his knees before his world turned black.

Then he opened his eyes.

It was incredible how much more you could see with just a little bit extra height. He inhaled. The smell of the river - faintly sweet, wet, and mossy - filled his nostrils. And even though only moments before he had felt burdened with fatigue, suddenly he felt as if he could run well past sundown. And so he tried.

Throwing his great head wildly, he reared and spun towards War Drum Flats. Hooves barely touched the ground beneath them. _Faster, faster, faster! _Couldn't these long legs move any faster? He was sure if he even increase his speed the tiniest bit more he would be flying.

Suddenly a whinny cut the air. Jake skidded to a stop, his forelegs braced against the momentum of the stallions body. Tall, white ears scanned his surroundings, until he saw the source of the noise. It was another horse, with a rider on its back. The rider whistled and used the hat upon his head to wave to another rider a ways off. The Phantom's sensitive ears picked up his voice, and Jake's stomach clenched.

_No._

Linc Slocum and his right-hand man, Flick, were moving towards him. Without a second's hesitation Jake wheeled into a flat-out gallop towards his body. Even if they knew it was him, their horses were no match. Especially not with riders.

He ran and ran until he realized he had accidentally gone too far, for just ahead of him was the bridge to Riverbend Ranch. Adrenaline coursed through his body. What was he supposed to do now? He paced in the shallows, hooves splashing noisily. Was it even safe to head back?

"Zanzibar."

Zanzibar? What kind of word was that? He stopped.

_You have got to be kidding me,_ Jake thought. This could not be going more wrong.

For making her way down towards him was Samantha Forester.


End file.
